


Touch

by WriterToBridge



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:18:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterToBridge/pseuds/WriterToBridge
Summary: Hugh is invited to Paul's for a night of working side-by-side on individual projects. When Hugh arrives at Paul's apartment, it looks likes like the night will be filled with nothing but work, reading, and silence. As the evening goes on, though, Hugh is pleasantly surprised.





	Touch

Hugh heard his long-distance communications panel ring; he knew the person calling was Paul.

They’d only been dating a couple months, yet Hugh knew Paul’s daily habits. Paul worked until five thirty, made some last minute checks throughout the lab, and then went home. If he called before six, that meant there was work that still needed to be done and Paul wanted to get the call out of the way. If he called after six, then their conversation was likely going to carry late into the night. Hugh looked at the wall clock next to the panel. Five fourty-seven. A short call, then.

Hugh pressed the accept button on the panel. Paul’s face appeared. He looked tense. More wrinkles creased under his blue eyes than usual. Still, Hugh smiled.

“Hi Paul. Have a busy night?”

“A little,” Paul answered, “That’s part of the reason I’m calling. I thought we could have another work-in night.”

Their first work-in was two weeks prior. They were supposed to go on a date that night. Hugh spent the afternoon changing clothes, considering shoes, and trying to compile the perfect look. Then Paul called before six and canceled. He had work. Hugh tried his best to hide his disappointment as Paul promised a future date on a non-work day that included tickets to a local performance of the Kasseelian opera  _L’ode_. Then Paul asked him if he wanted to come over and work side-by-side on their own tasks in, what Paul called, “a work-in”. Hugh said yes. He didn’t have much work to do, but he thought he could start reading a novel that one of his co-workers insisted everyone on staff read. So he loaded the novel onto his personal PADD and headed over. Most of the night wasn’t that great. They did, in fact, work side-by-side on Paul’s couch. Their conversation and physical contact was nonexistent though. As the hours wore on, Hugh wondered if the work-in was a mistake.

After six hours, Hugh decided to leave. He insisted he could see himself out, but Paul showed him to the door anyway. They conversed as if the hours of silence before hadn’t happened. Hugh was grateful for that normalcy. Then, as Hugh was standing in the open apartment doorway, Paul leaned forward and kissed him.

They kissed before that moment. Several times, in fact. But this kiss was different. There was a confident force behind it that Hugh hadn’t experienced with Paul before. He wasn’t expecting it. It ended too quickly. Hugh couldn’t fully wrap his mind around what happened. Then he saw Paul’s face. Warmth stared back at Hugh. Warmth Paul showed with a small closed-mouth smile, with a half-lidded gaze, with a slight head tilt to the right. That’s when Hugh realized that something about that night was good for Paul. Really good. Hugh couldn’t pinpoint what was so good about it, but he knew that whatever it was, Paul wanted or even needed it. When he entered the apartment lift and watched Paul walk back into his apartment, Hugh knew he’d be back for another work-in whenever Paul asked.

So, Hugh replied, “That sounds fine. When do you want me there?”

Hugh saw Paul’s shoulders relax a little. “Whenever you’d like.”

“I can be there in thirty minutes.”

Paul smiled a little. “That works.”

They exchanged quick goodbyes and Hugh hung up. Paul’s face vanished and the white wall behind the panel took his place. Hugh stared at the wall as he made some considerations. He thought about changing his clothes, about what to bring, about how long to stay. After a moment, he decided to stick with his current clothes - a Starfleet medical tee shirt, a pair of jeans, and some flip-flops - and went around the apartment to collect his tote bag, his Starfleet issued PADD, and his personal PADD. Then he walked out of his apartment, ready to spend the evening in Paul’s quiet company.

Hugh walked out of his apartment building and was greeted by the mild heat of San Francisco. The sun was out. Light hit the glass and metal buildings and spilled onto the walkway. People passed, creating a flow of organized chaos that drifted beyond Hugh’s field of vision. He stepped into that flow and headed to the teleporter four blocks away. When he arrived, he waited in line, then stepped inside and input the coordinates for the transporter across town. It took him there in a second. He stepped out into another flow of people. Foot traffic was leaner on this side, which translated into a disjointed flow up and down the street with no definable rhythm or pattern. People walked their on pace, their own way. Hugh settled into his own rhythm and let others pass if they wished. He made it to Paul’s apartment building and pressed his hand on the identification panel outside. It greeted him as an expected guest and flashed the directions to Paul’s apartment. Hugh walked in the apartment building and took the lift to floor sixteen. When the lift doors opened, he saw Paul standing outside apartment 1625. The door was open. He was waiting.

Hugh walked off the lift, smiled, and waved. Paul gave a small wave in return. Once there were only a few feet apart, Paul finally spoke.

“You’re early,” he said. Hugh stepped into the open apartment.

“Is that a complaint?” Hugh asked.

“Never,” Paul answered. Paul entered after Hugh and closed the apartment door. Hugh leaned forward and kissed him. Their kiss was gentle, sweet, and almost had an air of normalcy, though Hugh’s stomach tightened like it wasn’t completely used to the contact. The kiss broke. Paul smiled at him. It wasn’t coated with the outpouring of love like the one at the end of their last work-in, but Hugh knew the love was there.

“Would you like some tea?” Paul asked.

“Sure.”

Paul turned to the archway at Hugh’s right, which led into the kitchen. “We can sit on the couch again,” Paul said as he walked away. Hugh took off his flip-flops, placed them next to Paul’s shoes, which were neatly lined against the bare wall to Hugh’s left, and then Hugh walked into the living room.

The beige curtains were open. The floor-to-ceiling window showcased a shining view of San Francisco. From the sixteen floor, the people responsible for the haphazard flow of foot traffic were small. Hugh could make out fabric colors, some skin tones, and a few hair styles, but everything else was lost from the distance. But at this height, the buildings formed a man-made landscape of sleek silver and glass. The sun danced across the buildings and gave the city a shimmer, a spark, that would have been blinding if the window wasn’t tinted. The tint wasn’t at the heaviest setting. It couldn’t be. The outside served too much of a purpose for the plants living inside.

Hugh’s gaze naturally shifted to the plants sitting next to the window. Unlike Paul’s mushrooms at work, which were enclosed and stored in perfectly vented rooms designed specifically for their growth and continuously livelihood, Paul’s house plants were left out in the open. They were given their own pots and vases, but none of them were encased or closed off. They had space to breathe next to the window. That, likely, is why they were so vibrant. The couch and two empty side-tables were placed in front of that wall-to-wall table. Hugh put his tote on the closest side table and looked over the plants one at a time. The seven ferns, two aloe plants, and twelve different flowers looked as lively as they did the last time Hugh was there. One of the flowers, which Paul rescued from a local shop because it was dying, had blossomed beautifully. The pink petals fanned out and reached towards the glass window, happy for the space, the sun, the care. Hugh smiled at it. Then his eyes fell upon a new arrival. It was tiny in comparison to the rest of the plants, and so different Hugh wasn’t sure what to make of it at first. But the small cactus, with it’s pink flower top and matching pot, was placed near the window and given its own space to thrive.

“I see you have a cactus now,” Hugh said. He turned his back to the plants and looked to the wall. There was a glass-free window allowed Hugh to look into the kitchen. Paul was there, his back turned towards Hugh. Hugh could see his arms moving, but the content in his hands wasn’t easy to see.

“It was a gift from one of the lab technicians,” Paul said, “She insisted that it matched my personality.”

“So I’m not the only one that thinks you can be a bit prickly,” Hugh said. Hugh heard Paul huff. He smiled. “I think it’s cute.”

“Me or the cactus?” Paul asked.

“Both.”

Hugh watched Paul walk out of the kitchen and into the living room with two mugs of green tea. Paul stopped and held one out to him. Hugh realized that the tea was in the same mug Hugh picked out last time; it was a blue piece that was royal blue around the rim and then faded into a navy at the bottom. Heat touched his hands and heart as he took the mug from Paul’s grasp.

“Thank you,” Hugh said. Paul smiled softly in return. Then Paul’s blue eyes flicked to the cactus. Hugh watched him assess the plant quietly for a moment. Then Paul’s eyes narrowed and that soft smile grew. Then Paul turned, and Hugh’s view of that smile was gone. Hugh took a moment to sip at his tea before he sat down on the left-side of the two seat couch. He placed his tea on the coffee table in front of him, which was scarred from the mugs of the past, and he pulled his Starfleet issued PADD out of his tote bag. He felt Paul settle on the couch next to him. There was space between them. Not much, but certainly enough. Hugh glanced at Paul, who was already reading his own PADD, focused, still. A smile flicked onto Hugh’s face. Then he settled into his own work.

They worked in silence for over an hour. Hugh spent that time setting reminders, sending file corrections, forwarding emails, and messaging a doctor about a patient who was struggling with chronic pain. Once that was done, Hugh put the PADD aside and fished his personal PADD out of his tote. The novel his co-worker recommended was still there, waiting for his eyes. Hugh opened it where he left off and leaned against the couch. He stretched out his right arm and let it fall against the backing. Then, he settled into the words.

Ten pages passed quickly. Hugh found himself falling into the world of princes and kingdoms, of betrayal and anger, of violence, of war. The plans were set. The raging prince led the charge to the rebel camp. Victory was in sight. The kingdom would be saved. Hugh was on that road, ready to see the bloodiest battle the world would likely offer.

Then body heat touched his right side. The fictional world disappeared in an instant. Hugh glanced over.

Paul closed the space between them. Their sides touched. Hugh saw that Paul was looking at his own work PADD, but Paul’s eyes weren’t moving. Paul’s shoulders looked tense. So did his jaw. Hugh moved his right hand to Paul’s right shoulder. He ran his fingers over Paul’s shirt fabric. After a few seconds, Paul’s shoulders eased. Then his eyes began to scan over the lines again. Hugh was sure his jaw would slacken in time. He said nothing of it. He turned back to the novel.

Hugh read five more pages. His focus was split between the words and Paul, so he wasn’t quite in the battle. He was an observer. He lived his own life as the prince and his men attempted to tear down the main force behind the rebellion. When Hugh felt Paul’s left cheek fall onto his shoulder, he decided the distance between his world and the fictional one was better than his full immersion. Hugh moved his right hand up and started to brush the hair above Paul’s right temple. Hugh heard Paul sigh. Then he felt Paul move closer. Hugh smiled despite the war ramping up in the pages in front of him.

Near the end of the battle, Hugh felt Paul exhale deeply. Then he felt it again, and again, and again. Hugh left the prince in the middle of his sword fight with the rebel leader and looked over at Paul. Paul’s PADD was on his lap. It was on, but the screen dimmed from a lack of interaction. Paul’s hands were on it, but his grip was relaxed. His fingers weren’t moving. His chest rose and fell at a rhythmic, relaxed pace, in and out, in and out. His eyes were closed, his lips were parted, his head was still. Paul had fallen asleep.

Hugh thought about letting Paul sleep into the late evening. He knew Paul wouldn’t like it though. His work wasn’t done. So Hugh brushed his fingers through Paul’s hair twice more before he let his hand fall back onto Paul’s right shoulder.

“Paul,” Hugh whispered. Paul hummed. Hugh shook him gently. “Paul.” His voice was a little louder. Paul’s eyes eased open and flicked up towards Hugh’s face. Hugh smiled at him. “Your work.”

Paul stared and said nothing. After a moment, Paul finally sat up, stretched, and then stilled. Hugh expected Paul to move to the other side of the couch again. Instead, Paul looked at him, and then his chest. Then, with a free hand, Hugh watched Paul motion between the two of them, back and forth.

“Can we…?” Paul started to ask. His voice faded. Still, Hugh smiled.

“Whatever you want to do is fine,” Hugh answered. Paul looked up at his face again. Then Paul’s back straightened.

“Put your right leg on the couch.”

Hugh blinked. “But your couch is-”

“It’s fine,” Paul answered, “I’ve slept on this couch before.”

“You really should sleep in a bed every night,” Hugh said as he brought his right leg up. Hugh watched as Paul turned around, put his own feet on the couch, and pushed himself back. Hugh felt Paul’s shoulders land on his chest.

“I do,” Paul said as he shifted. “Sometimes I just get caught up with work.”

The back of Paul’s head fell onto Hugh’s right shoulder. Hugh put his right arm around Paul’s waist and moved him a little closer. They both eased into a comfortable stillness. Hugh kissed Paul on the tip of the left ear. Then he lifted the PADD in his left hand and started to read again. He got through two lines.

“You know,” Paul said. Hugh looked over. Paul’s head was tilted back and to the left so their eyes could meet. “There’s a place not far from here that delivers Italian food. If you’re willing to stay, we could have dinner together.”

Hugh smiled. “You’re willing to pry yourself away from your work just to eat dinner with me?”

“I’m almost done. If you’re hungry now, though, I would be willing to take a break.”

“I can wait. Finish your work.”

Paul’s gaze turned into a half-lidded one as another smile warmed his face. Hugh saw Paul tilt his head up a little more. Hugh leaned down and kissed him. The kiss was lengthy, soft, warm. When the kiss broke, Hugh took in Paul’s gentle gaze. Then he tightened his arm around Paul’s waist. Paul’s eyes flicked down to his work PADD. At the same time, Hugh felt Paul’s right hand fall on top of his own. Their fingers intertwined. After a moment, Hugh let his head fall. His right cheek landed softly on the top of Paul’s head. Hugh returned to the novel, Paul’s body a reminder that the world in the pages was not his own.


End file.
